Our Lady of the Ice (10 page)

Every now and then she caught Luciano’s eye, and he smiled encouragingly, as if he understood the way some silly party could help rejuvenate her.

A little after nine thirty, a gang of Marianella’s old socialite friends cornered her next to the fireplace. They were on their way to being drunk, although all three of them knew how to hide it.

“Bianca wants to play the theremin,” said Emilia, the oldest of the three and the one who had first befriended Marianella when she’d arrived in Hope City, all those years ago.

“I don’t,” said Bianca. “I haven’t played in years. I’m sure I’m terrible now.” She laughed, and Marianella could tell that she really did want to play—too much modesty always meant the opposite.

“Please,” said Paula. “You’re the most amazing player we know.”

Bianca laughed again, shoving at Paula playfully and shaking her head.

“I’d love to hear you play,” Marianella said. “I never could get the hang of it.” That wasn’t entirely true; Marianella loved the theremin. Except she didn’t play it with her hands the way a human would, but with the feedback from her own thoughts. And so she never played in front of an audience. At least not an audience that didn’t know her secret.

“I really don’t need to,” Bianca said, but Marianella knew that was a lie.

“Nonsense.” Marianella walked over to the bar and knocked one of the stirring spoons against her wineglass. The guests were well trained; they turned to her almost as a group. For a moment Marianella wavered under their gaze. She’d never liked being the center of attention; she was always convinced someone would see through her skin and discover her secret.

She glanced at Luciano, and his calm, unflappable presence soothed her.

“Bianca has a surprise for us,” she said, and the socialites erupted into giggles. Over thirty years old, all of them, and married, but they still acted like girls. The rest of the guests exchanged glances, and the air in the room tensed, as if the party expected a break in propriety.

“She’d like to play the theremin,” Marianella added, and there was a contented sigh—this wasn’t anything
weird
, only an impromptu performance. Old-fashioned, Marianella thought, as Bianca and the always chivalrous Vicente carted the theremin and its stand to the center of the room. Just like her parents’ parties in the thirties, when the guests would sing and perform instead of using the record player. It went along with Luciano playing the role of electric butler.

Bianca positioned herself. Her face took on a serious, scholarly expression, and she lifted her hands in the air. The theremin buzzed.

She began to play.

Marianella recognized the song immediately—a Rachmaninoff piece she’d always found haunting. She leaned against the bar and closed her eyes and listened. She’d played this song for Sofia once. It was a safe song, one that wouldn’t activate Sofia’s programming, and its intensity had always reminded Marianella of Sofia, as if the music could form into a woman.

The doorbell rang.

Marianella opened her eyes. Bianca kept playing, so caught up in her music that she didn’t notice. A few of the guests stirred, but no one seemed bothered by this interruption.

Luciano leaned forward. “Would you like me to answer it?” he whispered.

Marianella shook her head. Bianca played beautifully, but Marianella wasn’t sure she wanted to listen to this particular song right now. Too sad. Too many memories.

She slipped out of the main room and down the hall. None of her maintenance drones came to warn her, so she assumed it was not one of Ignacio’s men, and she was right. When she pulled the door open, Eliana Gomez stood on the front porch, clutching a bottle of cheap white wine in one hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I got caught up in picking out a gift— Did I need to bring a gift? And then I missed the train—”

“It’s quite all right. Come in.” Marianella took the wine and held open the door. Eliana looked out of place in her glittering black party dress and teased-out hair, but Marianella was glad she’d invited her. “We’re listening to a performance right now, but as soon as it’s over, I’ll introduce you to some potential clients.” She smiled and lifted the bottle. “I’ll drop this off in the kitchen. If you follow the hallway, you’ll get to the main room, and you’ll find everyone there.”

Eliana nodded, but she looked dazed, the poor girl, like an animal caught in the headlights of a car. She followed the direction of the music, and Marianella walked into the kitchen and slid the wine bottle into the refrigerator. Sweet of her, to bring a hostess gift.

“Nice party.”

Marianella recognized Alejo’s voice instantly. She straightened up, turned to face him.

“Thank you,” she said.

He grinned, looking rakish and dangerous, not like a city man at all. “I like the entertainment.”

“Yes, Bianca plays very well.”

“I was talking about the andie behind the bar.”

Marianella’s heartbeat rose, her breath quickened. “He’s not entertainment.”

“He’s novel enough to count, I’d think. How did you get something like that in this day and age?”

“A lady never tells her secrets.”

Alejo laughed. Marianella just smiled politely. They both knew
she couldn’t tell him any secret more damaging than the one she’d revealed last year in that shabby motel room.

Alejo smoothed back his hair with one hand. Preening. He was the bland sort of handsome that showed up well on television. “I’m glad I caught you alone, actually. I need to talk to you about the project.”

Marianella glanced around the big empty kitchen. Bianca had started Mozart’s Concerto Number Fifteen, and the cheerful notes drifted in from the hallway.

“Shouldn’t we wait?” she asked.

“It’s nothing terribly drastic, but I’ve been a bit tied up this last week and haven’t gotten a chance to call.” He went quiet, and Marianella peered up at him.

“Well?”

“I just have some concerns about the blackout on Last Night.”

Marianella glided across the kitchen and pretended to rummage in the refrigerator. The city had destroyed a maintenance drone because of that blackout, an innocent one, if Luciano was to be believed, but Marianella still remembered the initial rumors about the
AFF
’s involvement. She didn’t know the truth, whether a robot or the
AFF
had caused the blackout. It seemed unlikely to her that the
AFF
would want to cause a blackout. But then, they murdered people, innocent people, so perhaps it was possible. If anyone knew the truth, it was Alejo. Or Sofia, for that matter.

“I heard it was terrifying,” Marianella said. “The blackout.”

“Lucky you, holed up in your private palace.” Alejo moved up alongside her, leaning on the refrigerator door. “It’s actually been pretty scary the last week too. The power hasn’t been steady. It flickers, dims—hasn’t failed completely again, but it’s enough that the city engineers are all in a tizzy.”

“I’ve heard about that. My prayers are with all of you.” Marianella pulled out a package of chèvre and looked over at Alejo expectantly. He stepped away from the refrigerator and pushed the door shut for her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Anything for Lady Luna.” Alejo repositioned himself against the
counter. “Do you really need to do that? There’s plenty of food sitting out with your andie.”

“You know I don’t like that word.” Marianella took a plate out of the cupboard and began arranging crackers across it, flared out like a sunflower.

Alejo grinned. “Well, you were always touchy about robots. I suppose that’s fair.”

“We should all be touchy about robots,” Marianella murmured. “They run the city for us. The power failures ought to cement that, don’t you think?”

“Exactly. That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.” Alejo leaned in close to her as she rearranged the crackers. “The city’s blaming a piece of broken programming that’s worked its way into the city drones. Pretty big cause for concern, I’d say.”

Marianella’s skin prickled with his sudden closeness. He smelled like European cologne and pine trees. Every human had a different scent.

He pressed his cheek against hers. “We’re lucky we’re not stuck with city drones,” he murmured.

“Oh, stop it. Someone will see.” She pushed him aside. She and Alejo hadn’t slept together since the day she’d revealed her nature, but he still flirted with her sometimes, when he wanted to get his way. He didn’t want her anymore because he knew what she was. Well, the same could be said for her. The idea of sleeping with someone who took money from terrorists no longer excited her. She felt sick that it had ever excited her at all.

Alejo stepped a few paces away from her, smoothed his hair again. “You’re no fun.”

“You’re a tease.”

Alejo laughed at that.

“What exactly did you want to talk about?” She smeared the chèvre artfully on the center of the plate. “You don’t really think my drones are infected with this—broken programming?” She pitched her voice low. Bianca was still playing the concerto, and the melody jumped around the house.

“I just want to make sure.” Alejo shrugged. “Will it really be a
huge burden for you to run out there and check on them? I’d hate to see all your hard work wasted.”

He’d hate to see all
his
hard work wasted. Marianella knew that by now. Still, Marianella always loved any excuse to visit the ag dome. Even if she didn’t think her drones were in any danger of broken city programming, she nodded as she lifted the cheese plate.

The music faded away, and applause rippled in from the main room.

“You know you can check on the drones yourself,” she said. “I gave you access.” He’d insisted on access, but Marianella didn’t mention that.

“I know, I know. But you’re so much better with them than I am. I’ll miss something, I’m sure of it.”

“Yes, you probably would.” She smiled to show she was half-teasing. “I really don’t mind so much. I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I do appreciate it.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh! Before you run back out to the party—I’ve got one last question for you.”

Marianella turned around, still holding the plate of cheese and crackers. “Yes?”

“The Midwinter Ball—”

Marianella sighed. “I
know
, Alejo. I told you, I’m already making plans to attend.”

Alejo held up two hands and pretended to cower in apology. “I know, I know,” he said. “We talked about it a few weeks ago. But I want to know for certain—”

“I’ll be there,” Marianella said. “I swear to you.”

“It’s the biggest event of the year.” Alejo grinned. “I just wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

Marianella knew it wasn’t her social life he had in mind. Still, she laughed and shook her head before leaving the kitchen. In the cool, dark hallway she reminded herself that she was the widow of Hector Luna, an aristocrat from the mainland, and nothing more. She certainly hadn’t built an agricultural dome with a man who took money from terrorists.

By the time she was back in the main room, she almost believed it.

“Is everything all right?” Luciano smiled at her as she deposited
the cheese plate on the bar. “You were gone longer than I expected.”

“Alejo wanted to talk to me.”

“Mr. Ortiz?”

Marianella nodded. She thought she heard a disapproving lilt in Luciano’s voice, but it was impossible to know for sure, and when she looked at him again, he was still smiling. She gazed out over the party. Bianca stood beside the theremin, surrounded by admirers. A knot of husbands lounged by the doorway, smoking cigarettes. And Eliana Gomez pressed herself into the corner like she was trying to be invisible.

“Eliana!” Marianella cried. “Oh, I almost forgot about her, the darling.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, no, that’s not necessary. I just didn’t mean to leave her alone.” Marianella left Luciano and cut across the room to where Eliana stood sipping nervously out of a glass of wine. When she saw Marianella, she looked relieved.

“This is a great party,” she said, clearly lying.

“I didn’t mean to be so long in the kitchen. I’m sorry.” Marianella had slipped almost completely back into the role of Lady Luna now, and as she whirled Eliana around the party, introducing her to potential clients, she felt herself finally settle into it. The moment Marianella had seen Eliana on her front porch, clutching the envelope with her documents, Marianella’s life had started up again. That documentation revealed what she was. It revealed all the details of her schematics. She’d thought about burning it so many times—once, she’d even held it over an open flame—but she always stopped herself. If her nature were revealed and she could produce no documentation, she would be killed without question. With the documents, she would only be deported.

And that was why Marianella had invited Eliana to this party. Eliana had recovered the documentation and not looked; or if she had looked, she hadn’t acted on it. Marianella suspected she hadn’t looked. Anyone who knew would report her or blackmail her. Or sell her out to Ignacio Cabrera, as her late husband had apparently done.

Marianella shoved the thought aside, storing it for some other time—tomorrow, after the party, in the harsh light of day. Eliana Gomez deserved her attention now. There was no amount of money Marianella could give Eliana to repay her for saving her secret, for
keeping
her secret. The least Marianella could do was bring her some new business.

CHAPTER NINE

ELIANA

“I have just one more person I’d like you meet. Is that all right?” Lady Luna led Eliana through the maze of party guests. The lights were so bright in the house, brighter than Eliana remembered from the last time she was here. Maybe she shouldn’t have had the third glass of wine.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

Lady Luna beamed. They’d spoken to three people already, two women and a man. All three of them had the glossy, aristocratic bearing Eliana was used to seeing only on television, but they’d been polite enough to her, and they’d taken her business card and tucked it away as if they intended to use it later. Eliana knew it couldn’t hurt, having her name out in this crowd. If they all paid as well as Lady Luna, she’d be out of Antarctica within the year.

“This is Eveline Quiroga.” Lady Luna stopped in front of a middle-aged woman in a slim green dress, streaks of gray in her dark hair. “Eveline, you remember that matter we were discussing a few weeks ago? I have someone who might be able to help.”

Mrs. Quiroga turned her gaze to Eliana, who had the urge to shrink away but didn’t.

“You can call me at my office,” Eliana said, handing her a business card. “Whatever the matter is, I work quickly and discreetly.”

Mrs. Quiroga looked over the business card and then slipped it into her handbag.

“A woman investigator,” she said in a cool, sophisticated drawl. “I suppose that fills a niche.”

Eliana plastered on her politest smile. “I’ve been told it does.” She was used to being condescended to, and by people far more practiced at it than this Mrs. Quiroga.

“She does excellent work,” Lady Luna said brightly. “I can personally vouch for her. I’d be happy to speak about it with you sometime.”

“Is that so?” Mrs. Quiroga looked at Lady Luna and then back to Eliana. “I’ll think about it. Excuse me.”

She floated off into the party, wineglass held up. Eliana wanted another drink, dizziness be damned.

“I’m sorry about that,” Lady Luna said.

“About what?”

“Oh, you know,
Eveline
. She’s like that with everyone, at least until they prove themselves to her. I should have warned you.”

Eliana laughed. “I can handle it.”

Lady Luna sipped from her glass of wine, gazing out over her party. She seemed different this evening, more glamorous and less flighty. Classy, that was it. She was
classy
tonight. In certain ways Lady Luna reminded Eliana of her own mother, who had faked sophistication on several different occasions during Eliana’s childhood. And like Eliana’s mother, Lady Luna seemed to be faking her classiness, or at least some of it.

Eliana wondered what sort of woman lay behind Lady Luna’s facade, if she was as spirited as Eliana’s mother had been. Eliana thought she could like Lady Luna, if that was the case.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Eliana said, and Lady Luna smiled in acknowledgment. Eliana left her alone and walked over to the bar. The andie was watching the party much as Lady Luna was: unmoving, contemplative.

“Hey,” Eliana said. Then, out of habit, “Nice to see you again.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He smiled, and Eliana was still stunned by the way a smile could look so genuine and so artificial at the same time. “Would you like something to drink, Miss Gomez?”

“You know my name?”

“I remember you, yes. Would you like another glass of wine?”

Eliana nodded and watched as he pulled out a clean glass and opened up a new bottle. The wine sloshed, red and thick. He handed it to her.

“I missed you when I came out here to deliver Lady Luna’s documents.” Even as she spoke, Eliana wondered what she was doing. Playing the damn detective at a party, and for what? There was no case. No one was paying her to investigate Lady Luna or her old-fashioned and highly regulated electronic butler.

“Did you?” His voice was inflected with a cool politeness.

“Yeah.” Eliana arranged herself on a stool. Funny what alcohol did to you. She’d rather talk to the robot than to any of the guests at the party. “Lady Luna give you days off?”

“Why would I need a day off?” All of his words sounded rehearsed, but this question sounded more rehearsed than anything else. “I’m sure I was busy elsewhere on the estate. What day was it?”

“Last Tuesday.”

“Ah yes, well, I was tending to the wheat. I’m sure that’s why I missed you.” He turned away from her, putting the wine back into place along the mirror. Eliana sipped from her glass. Mr. Vasquez had taught her how to read people, as much as you
could
teach that, but this was an andie. Hard to tell what she was seeing.

“I was just curious,” she said when he turned back to face her.

“A useful trait in your profession, I’m sure.” He gave her a sly smile, which put her at ease.

“Do you like working for Lady Luna?” she asked.

“I like it very much.” In this moment, he looked more human than robot, as if the wine were softening his edges. “Do you like working as a private investigator?”

“Beats working in the steno pool down at the city offices.” Eliana took a long drink, and the alcohol’s warmth spread through her limbs.

“I can imagine.”

Eliana laughed. “Maybe. Most men can’t.”

He blinked at her, and Eliana had the sudden dawning ache that she’d misspoken somehow.

“Luciano! Get us a drink, will you? Whiskey, neat.” A man with steely hair sidled up to the bar, a woman about Eliana’s age dangling off his arm.

The robot—Luciano, his name was Luciano—moved to fix the couple’s drinks. When he turned away from her, Eliana slid off the bar stool and moved through the liquid lights of the party.

She just needed some fresh air.

*  *  *  *

Eliana woke up the next day to the sound of banging on her front door.

She moaned into her pillow, blinking against the glare of the dome lights pouring in through her window. They hadn’t been this bright in days.

The banging stopped, and Eliana breathed a sigh of relief. Her head pounded in time with her heart.

The banging started again.

“Eliana! You in there?”

Diego. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, not since she’d stolen the documents off Sala down at the Florencia. She’d figured he’d retreated into the underworld for a while, the way he did.

“I’m coming!” she shouted, although she doubted he could hear her. She rolled out of bed and ran her fingers through her hair before padding over to the door. She pulled it open when Diego was midknock, his fist lifted in the air.

“Somebody had a fun night,” he said.

Eliana rolled her eyes and pushed the door open farther. Diego stepped inside, swooping his gaze around the room, the way he always did. The door clicked shut behind him, and he reached back and locked it.

“At least, I hope it was a fun night.” Diego collapsed on the sofa, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

“Yeah? You aren’t jealous?” Eliana grinned at him, but Diego didn’t return it. “You want some coffee?”

“You still have coffee this far into winter?”

Eliana shrugged.

“No, I’m fine. It’s the middle of the afternoon anyway. You really do look like shit, Eliana. You should drink some orange juice.”

“No one in the smokestack district has seen orange juice for four months.” Eliana stumbled into the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of water. She leaned up against the refrigerator, sipping at it, and Diego came in to join her.

“Seriously, though,” he said, “was it a good night?”

Eliana peered up at him. His expression was serious, almost stern.

“I was at a party,” she said.

Diego took a deep breath.

“What?” Eliana finished off her water and poured another glass. “I can’t go to parties?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Diego said. “But you probably shouldn’t steal papers off some engineer waiting to meet with Mr. Cabrera in Mr. Cabrera’s own goddamned bar.”

Eliana froze. She and Diego stared at each other, and Eliana felt the way she had the time her mother had caught her sneaking out of their apartment one night when she was fifteen: a weird combination of guilt and irritation at being found out.

“You heard about that?” she finally squeaked. She took a long drink of water.

“Yeah, I heard about it.” Diego sighed again. “You better be grateful Mr. Cabrera has no idea who you are. The only one who got a good look at you was Sala, and he’s—not an issue.”

Eliana felt herself harden. “Why not?”

“Because he’s not. He’s dead.”

“What?”

“Mr. Cabrera had him killed. For lying.” Diego’s eyes glittered. “That’s why I said you should be grateful Mr. Cabrera has no idea who you are. I only figured it out when I put two and two together. Not a lot of lady investigators in the city.”

He
was
upset. He’d called her an investigator instead of a cop.

“It was a lot of money.” Eliana drained her glass and left it sitting on the counter. Her stomach lurched, and she didn’t think she needed to fill it with any more water. “And I haven’t had any problems since.” She felt cold. Sala was
dead
. “Should I be worried?”

Diego ran his hand over his hair. “Not because of this, no. Mr. Cabrera’s dropped it, and you didn’t technically steal from him. But you need to stay out of his business. He’s got too much power in this city. He says the word, and someone dies, and the cops don’t give a shit.”

“You’re the one who works for him.” Eliana left the kitchen. She wondered if Diego had killed Sala—but only for a moment. He was an errand-runner, nothing else. He just wanted to warn her.

The living room was too bright, all that dome light pouring through the windows. She’d forgotten how bright it could be. She drew the blinds and stretched out on the sofa, hands resting on her stomach. Diego sat down on the floor beside her.

“Working for him is different from chasing him down,” he said quietly.

“I’m not chasing him down! I just needed to get those documents back for my client. It’s over.” She didn’t mention the party because she didn’t want to listen to Diego complain about her palling around with Marianella Luna. Not that she’d call that party
palling
, necessarily.

Eliana closed her eyes, and her headache subsided.

“Look, I’m just worried about you, is all.” Diego’s large rough hands tugged on her hair. She opened one eye. He was staring at her with an oddly concerned expression, like she’d fallen and hurt herself. And that softened her. All she wanted right now was to be taken care of.

God, she really shouldn’t have drunk all that wine last night.

“I know you are,” she said.

Diego smiled and kissed her on the forehead. How could this man be a killer?

And then the electricity went out.

The darkness was sudden and absolute. Eliana sat straight up, blinking, terrified at the idea that her eyes could be open and still she could see nothing.

“Diego?” she called out, her heart pounding.

“I’m here.” And he was, his voice close to her ear, just as it had been on Last Night. “Nothing to worry about. We’re inside. Worse comes to worst, we’ll drag out your emergency parka. Those things are always big enough to share.”

“I don’t have one! It wasn’t in the apartment when I moved in.”

Diego put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close. In the stifling darkness she could feel him and smell him, the hardness of his shoulder and that musky sweet scent of his aftershave. She buried her face into his sweater. After a while, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness. It wasn’t pitch-black. A faint, silvery light came in through the window, and it seemed to shift around like liquid. Eliana could make out the shapes of her apartment: her couch, her chair, Diego. She snuggled up closer to him.

Voices shouted curses outside on the street. Somewhere on her floor a door slammed.

“We’re safe,” Diego muttered against the top of her head. “I locked the door when I came in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” That little bit of gangster’s paranoia. It was reassuring to see it came in useful.

Eliana wasn’t sure how long the lights stayed out. It felt longer than the blackout on Last Night, but her apartment stayed warm. She leaned against Diego and listened to his heart beating (fast, it was beating fast). Neither of them spoke. She watched the weird light move across the floor.

And then there was a sound like an enormous car starting up, and the light in the window brightened and brightened until it was clear the dome lights were back on, only at twilight levels. A moment later, the lights inside Eliana’s apartment switched on again, and the coils on the radiator glowed red.

“Oh, thank God,” Eliana said.

Diego was already at the door to the balcony, peering out at the street. “Ten minutes,” he said. “That’s the longest it’s been out
since—” He snapped the blinds shut and turned back around to face her. “You need to buy another parka,” he said.

Eliana didn’t answer, just curled her legs up to her chest. He was right. The emergency parkas had been a staple of her childhood—she remembered the set hanging in her closet at home, and the cheap metallic ones they kept at the school. But it wasn’t something she’d ever thought about now that she was on her own.

“I’ll get one for you,” Diego said. “If cost’s the problem.”

“It’s fine,” Eliana said distractedly. She thought about the old steam-powered generators installed on every street corner. The city had sworn they’d been reactivated after Last Night for backup, and Eliana had even seen the steam puffing out of the exhaust pipes when she’d walked home. She shivered. Diego glanced at her, then walked over to the radiator and turned it up. Then he switched on the radio. A tango orchestra blared out of the set station, but he spun the dial until he came to a news program.

“Repeat, the problem has been resolved. As of right now we are assuming the possibility of involvement by the Antarctican Freedom Fighters—”

Diego snorted. “Please,” he said. “They need to stop bullshitting us.”

“You don’t think it’s the
AFF
?”

“Do you?” Diego slid back down into the couch beside her. “Why the hell would they want to turn off the power?”